


(never) left at the edge

by winterscaptsam



Category: Marvel, Spideychelle - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterscaptsam/pseuds/winterscaptsam
Summary: A short post - endgame, MJ is clueless on what's going on with Peter anymore. She just wants him to be Peter Parker and not Spider Man.





	(never) left at the edge

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a pretty short and angst/comfort spideychelle fic. Written at the spur of the moment.

She thinks that she would've liked it better when she only knew Peter as the boy in her class she payed a little too much attention too. She hates the fact she knows, she knows him as Spider man now. Sure, it has its good sides like grabbing the can of coke with his web when they were both too lazy to get up and it showed her much of a good person he was. Using his ability to help everyone - no matter how big or small their problem is.

But when push comes to shove, she worries like anyone would. He's reckless now, he feels like he has nothing to loose now he's already lost Tony Stark. Out day and night, villain after villan, constantly putting himself in danger as if that would live up to Ton'ys expectations. To the rest of the world's expectations.

"Sorry, Michelle" Aunt May says as she asks her if Peter's home for the third time that night.

"Its okay- thanks anyway." MJ's voice soft as she cuts the phone call and presses on Peter's number.

_"Hey, Peter here! Uh, leave a message...or don't I probably won't listen to it anyway."_

MJ blinks back a tear, only fearing the worst as she dials again anyway - never expecting him to pick up but just to hear the comfort of his voice over and over again. Maybe if she kept listening she'd forget the fact he was never there to hear any other words usher from his lips.

_"Hey, Peter here! Uh, leave-"_

MJ gets startled, eyes shooting open as she can hear the knocks on her door. Ignores it in hope that her parents would answer until she remembers she's always home alone on Friday nights. It's probably adverts, neighbours or buy scouts. Whatever it is, she doesn't answer. Only for the knocks to get harder and in fast pace, she sighs. Jumps out of bed and slings on a yellow hoodie over her and goes to the front door.

Doesn't look through the peep hole, she swings it open ready to tell whoever it was to just fu-

"Hey," 

Peter's voice almost croaky enough to know he's holding back a sob. She looks at him, confused, angry but God, so relived that he's finally here. Alive and breathing in front of her, her eyes trail from his scruffy brown hair to his teary eyes and down to his busted lip, swollen with dry blood trickling at the side.

She doesn't say anything, she can't- not yet anyway. He steps towards her only to fall into the warmth of her hug, burying his head into her shoulders and letting out the smallest of chocked sobs. She hugs him tight, close and warm as he could feel the softness and comfort of her breath on his neck. She lets him stay, she doesn't say anything. She doesn't ask.

She lets him take a shower as she tidy's her room a bit, throwing the left out books and school papers under her bed. Her eyes land on her desk, a newspaper yet again documenting the famous Tony Starks and Natasha Romanoff's death, Steve Rogers passing the shield to Sam Wilson and how the world was meant to carry on without the Earths mightiest hero's to defend them. She throws it away, tosses it all the way to the bottom of the trash bin and covering it with tissues and old papers. Anything to cover what the world kept screaming. 

He walks into the room, grey sweatpants and blue shirt stuck to the wetness of his body as his brown her laid damp on him as MJ pats on the empty space next to her on the bed, sitting by the edge as if ready to fall off the second Peter asked her too. She would do anything as long as it means he's out of danger, the danger he has the habit of putting himself in.

He sinks down in the space next to her, close enough that their legs touch in unison. She lets her head fall on to his shoulders, he remembers how much he loved the feeling, if he had been gone any longer then he would've forgotten how at ease MJ would make him feel. 

He brushes a strand of her curled hair and pushes it behind her ears, "I'm sorry." he whispers, realising how long he's left her at the edge of fear everyday. 

"It's okay,"

And for a moment it really does feel like its okay. For a moment he starts to feel like the Peter she knows. 

Maybe this time he stays for good. That is what Peter would do after all.


End file.
